When a man
Suprresses a rising evil
Of his children

He serves society
By making his house
A happy place

If I'm fed up
With my life

I have no right to live it

Don't comment;
Complement.
This is the way
To feel better
By spending your time
On others.

Like photography,

Friendship needs your favour.

If you have a well developed mind

You can catch any beautiful scene

In one go.

Cut off mobile from children
They want to play

Life is short
But not too short
That we cannot spend some time
On making it beautiful

My true friend is

Goodness

He accompanies me everywhere

Visibly, invisibly

Graphics
    Are the behaviour
             To beautify the paper

Children's tiny toys
Dispersed at the one stroke of
Wind; injustice.

Does it make sense
To try to understand
The reason of leaves
Falling and falling
Here in March

Sit cosy
Under the tree
And let your senses eat
the heavenly peace

Everyone has an opinion for your problem
But
Only few have time

If
You want to be a praiseworthy
And respected thief

Steal only hope of each person

'I' is always big,
Yet it has to stand
With small 'h' and 'm'

Only 'I' cannot do wonders
In a single sentence

'I'
Is very selfish

Still
A charming personality

A great dilemma

Should I hate it

Or love it

Better to keep mouth shut
If the idea we have in our mind
Is based on our nature
Not on the demanding-situation

No opportunity will ever follow you
You will have to chase it without being impatient

Cheering your own sadness
Is a kind invitation to happiness

The language of beauty
Is understood
Only by the soul

Happiness keeps knocking at the door
But mobile doesn't let the latch go off

I couldn't cure the leaf
That crept to my

Exhausted feet

While strolling
Down the woods in autumn

Earlier
When they were spirited

I couldn't help any

For I cannot fly
Like the grasshopper

It was literature;
It is literature;
It will be literature

That understands its responsebilities
To serve mankind and other creatures.

How ironical

We happily carry the heaviest hate in our softest heart

But are ever fearful of carrying the lightest love in it

If I eat a loaf
Without sharing it
With my hungry neighbour

It's something else
That's not mentioned
In the book of human life

I love you
As a mother does to her child.

It's so simple.

Beyond the holding hands on escalators,
Eating pani puri,
And putting into each other's mouth,
Letting her head on my shoulder
In the park,

I would watch your eyes
And dive into them
To reach her soul
And listen to its beating
For me.

We have no solutions

Because

The majority has opinions

And do nothing

Raising
One's
Own morale
Even after the defeat

Is a miracle
To do the ordinary in a miracle way

It matters most
How you walk out
Through
The scorching heat
In quest of
A quiet bower

If mother were a form of poetry
I would compose only this
In thy praise throughout my life
o my mother........

I don't care
If the pains flow over me
For I know
Their nature is to recede

In the boat
Of my dreams

I wanna you sit
And steer it to its fulfilment

In that rainbow moment,

The precious coral,

While walking

On the leafy track,

Thy eyes,

Those brown stars,

Gazing,

Like a deer

In quest of its fawn,

Over thy shoulder,

Had arrested my soul,

And incarcerated me

Into the marriage,

A life sentence of ecstasy!

Reading
The newspaper

Adds to mind

Reading
Poetry

Adds to soul

Reading books is a healthy conversation
For all beings of all ages.....

How shocking to people
I'm still sailing
Despite the storm
In my life
And their contribution
To the rising ripples
Befooled them

What
One
Eats
For
The
Soul
Is
Enough
For the mind to be in the pink

You will have to burn
Like the sun
If you have passion
To serve mankind

It's one of the wonderful day of your life
When you think
That you have to achieve

Something---Unbelievable

Imagination
Does wonders for every work

In this age of

Wars: wars of words,

Wars of land distribution

And wars of weapons,

Rage a new war of love
That squash all, yes, all..

Surviving in a war-inflicted region
Is like walking on the edge of a thin wall.
You have no roof and no ground,
Still you have to walk to avoid any sudden fall.

A gentleman isn't made of
What he has in his cupboard

He is made of
A worthwhile-sense-of-maintaining - his-worthiness.

If you can't write well
Paint some pictorial images

If you have entered into a problem
There is a way to come out
Nothing has only entrance

No need to make a call to Happiness
If it's resting on the hill
And you are standing for him

He has no skill for technology

He will come to you
At the behest of Fate

If he doesn't do
Have patience
For he cares everyone
Though he is late comer

Sunny. Not a half spoon of wind.
Students are engrossed, opening
Their pages. They, unbidden guests,
Are in their rooms, built in oir field.
Chirping grows from loud to louder.
I cannot lose the sight of headlines.
We are talking about their music,
Not about our irritation. The chirping
Gets thinner. I'm sad. I am waiting.